Baby girl you have a choice to become a woman not a whore
Baby your sweet succulent tits should not make you drunk
Keeping mouths to drink from your fountain is madness
It renders you a whore rather than the woman you were made to be
The hairy thighs and hairy tummy is your flower of beauty
Flowers that come to spice that inner beauty you should
Not dump into the trash can of perversity all driven by materialism
Your quest for things that will only help to...
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